Friday Shoe Haiku

These heels looks Pucci.
But they're not. They look soooo tall
And, oh yes, they are.


This spectacular pair of Sergio Zelcer cork wedges will likely be part of my Halloween costume tomorrow when I am the perpetually stressed dresser-of-the-stars Rachel Zoe.

True story — the last time I wore them (on a movie date night last year), I completely fell on my face in front of a police officer. Good thing they don't do field sobriety tests for walking.

I am a selfish bee-otch

My parents ask for a Christmas list every year.

It kinda makes me feel like I'm 12 again, but it's sweet and I always dutifully comply because they are Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Seriously.

Pretty much everything that goes on the list shows up under the tree. I've never tested the limits of their generosity by asking for, say, a car, because I'm not that kind of girl. But I really think they'd go for just about anything because even though they never want gifts and complain about the commercialization of the holiday, they still really want to buy for people and make them happy.

Since my mom's a planner, this is the time of year she asks for the lists. I had already been thinking about mine for months and had been jotting down things that I'd like to add to my arsenal of stuff.

My husband also sent in his list — yeah, he asked that donations be made to a charity that benefits local school kids.

$*&%^*#*%)

My parents were most impressed by that and told me how mature this was. Talk about feeling 12 again. Somehow that seems more generous than me requesting a scarf made by disabled people.

Cool Discovery #53

I let the kids pick out the bath soap, anything to make at least one job easier. So when my little dude selected Spider-Man "Grime Fighting Blast" body wash at Target, that was fine by me. What I wasn't expecting was that I'd become absolutely intoxicated by the smell.

The Marvel people must've been screwing around that day, trying to decide how to throw parents for a loop. I mean, the container is decorated with Spider-Man and Doc Ock, the soap is neon-pink, but it smells like something you'd find in an upscale bath shop. Amazing.

The pink gel is fresh like cut grass, clean like rain and with a subtle, subtle hint of powder. It's reminiscent of one of my favorite, favorite scents — The Thymes Fig Leaf & Cassis, which has been discontinued. Ah well, this stuff might be even better and it's infinitely cheaper. I'm totally stealing it from the kids. They just got some SpongeBob stuff anyhow. It smells exactly like kid soap usually does — overly fruity and slightly medicinal. Spidey's all mine.

Calgon! Take Me Away!!

The squares on my calendar are just not big enough.

Since it's Monday, I was looking at the week ahead and jotting in all the things I realized I hadn't entered into my old-school Blackberry — birthday party, doctor's appointment, day off from school. Then I flipped ahead to the next month and the next. Holy crap, the year's almost over. And my little, teeny squares are so very full.

I wish I could just hit the pause button for a breather. When my kids play together — or even sometimes in the middle of a conversation with them — they'll shout "Pause!" so that everything stops while they do what they need to do, go to the bathroom, swat at a fly, look at a flower.

But, I think I need more than just a momentary pause.

Some people (those without children) might say I need a vacation. Once you have kids, though, that word is no longer applicable. When you bring children with you, it's called "taking the show on the road." There's no vacation. No relaxation. Just the same ol' same ol', but even harder. No, what I need is a comacation. If I could just slip into a light coma, just for a few weeks, I think that would do the trick. Well, that is if a coma is like a deep sleep.

I don't want to be in one of those comas where you're completely aware of everyone and everything going on around you, and you just can't respond. That would suck. That might be more maddening than being awake and having people constantly tugging at you and screaming and crying and shouting, "Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!"

Friday Shoe Haiku

Pink and checkered sneaks
Orthotics fit inside! Yay!
Happy podi'trist....

Harsh Life Lesson No. 53

The other day I was flipping through my Mount Lemmon-sized pile of magazines next to the couch and came across this tidbit: If you just think about exercise, it can make you gain weight.

That explains it.

Seems that in a study — there's always a study — people who only thought about working out but didn't actually do it, gained weight because they ended up eating more, as if they had exercised.

(#&%)(&#%)(*&@(!*

The other night, I had this dream (an anxiety nightmare, actually) about hopping on the elliptical and then trying to find suitable floor space where there wasn't a puppy pee stain or children's crap so I could do some crunches. After I woke up, I didn't actually try to do either of those things. I got on the scale, and sure enough, a pound heavier than a few days before.

Damn studies.

The Latest Miracle Product

Theoretically — and I say theoretically because it's currently about 90-something degrees outside — it's fall.

I love fall, except for one thing: the old lady hands.

It never fails. A light chill hits the air and my hands start to look all prune-y. Excuse me, I believe I mean "dried plumlike," that's the term the fruit's PR people are pushing these days. Dry, wrinkly, gross hands. Seems I can't lotion enough. But after a spilled lotion incident in the purse, I don't dare carry it around with me. I've got stick sunscreen already in my bag for the same reason. Now, the sunscreen has company with Josie Maran Argan Oil Moisturizing Stick.

If you haven't heard yet about argan oil, allow me to enlighten you. It is the latest, greatest rage in skincare. Here's the dealio, the oil is very moisturizing and is purported to have anti-aging ingredients rich in fatty acids and vitamin E. In the stick form, the oil can be used as a multipurpose balm, soothing chapped lips and skin, relieving the itch from insect bites, even taming flyaway hairs. I just roll it over my hands. When I'm feeling braver (lately I've been plagued by pimples), perhaps the balm will take a trip across my face.

You can find Josie Maran Argan Oil Moisturizing Stick at Sephora for $22.

Gettin' Jeggy WIt It

Jeggings.

If you can forgive the lame term — it's "leggings" crossed with "jeans" — it's actually a cool concept. Take a pair of skinny jeans and cross 'em with form-fitting but forgiving material and perhaps slap an elastic band on the top. If you can get over that maternity-wear look — shudder — then these are phenomenal. That is, when they're appropriately paired with long, flowy tops. We do not want to see these on the Supermarket Sirens. You know who I mean — those chicks wandering the grocery store aisles who apparently don't own a mirror and choose to wear spandex without adequate badonkadonk coverage. Yuck.

Well, I LOVE this pair of jeggings (please don't let that be a Rachel Zoe term. I don't want to give her any more credit than she's already hogging) from Tobi.com. The price is a little steep, but as usual, Forever XXI has decent versions at allowance-friendly prices.

I'm thinking jeggings paired with this Sauce top, which, incidentally I just bought. On eBay! I loves the eBay.

My version is green and has these darling, oversized gold safety pins decorated with giant faux pearls. The pins adorn the front and back. Too, too cute. It'd make a nice casual, weekend outfit.  

Friday Shoe Haiku

Flat but not boring
These make my feet so happy
Leopard — ha cha cha!


Me Too "Nevada" Flats

A Bear-y Cool Faux Fur Coat

On the one hand, maybe this jacket is taking the whole faux-fur trend too far.

But, I find it pretty darn amusing. I also think you wouldn't have to pay me very much money to wear it around.

Absolutely Mad for Plaid

It all started with this cute pic on Luckymag.com (the Lucky magazine Web site): a fun, low-key plaid look.

Now, I'm completely obsessed.

Not only did I buy a $20 Forever XXI plaid shirt, so I could steal this look (except for the tights — still too hot), but I find myself needing more plaid. It's like fashion crack.

I found this awesome plaid tunic by Torn. (And yes, I do spend too much time looking for things to covet on the Internet.) Even on ebay, the top is still waaaaay too expensive for a novelty look. But man, I'd love to wear it with skinny jeans and some tough, peeptoe boots.

And then Stems — A Shoe Boutique got in these ADORABLE plaid Harajuku Lovers platforms in red plaid. I might be willing to torture my tootsies for these.

My question is....How much plaid does one closet need?

A Little Spritz'll Do Ya

OK, so after I celebrated a 77-degree day with Ugg boots last week, I'm now being punished — harshly — with high 80s temps.

Ugh.

No more boots this week. In fact, after taking the puppy and 4-year-old for a walk in the 86-degree heat yesterday, I reached for my Evian spray mist when I got home. Sure it smacks of a very "I-live-in-the-Hamptons-dahling-and-I-have-a-day-laborer-just-for-opening-the-pickle-jar" move, but that light spray mist felt so refreshingly good. If I'd put it in the fridge, that would have been even better.

You can pick up a duo of Evian spray for $11 at Sephora. It's a worthwhile little splurge.

An Inconvenient Poo

Al Gore can yammer all he wants about global warming. The biggest problem in the world — well, my world anyway — is an inconvenient poo.

It never fails — whenever we go, wherever we go, someone has to go. Always No. 2. And, it's usually the youngest, No. 3, who has to do his doo-ty.

Now, I know the Mommy Handbook. I faithfully follow Rule No. 5, and I never, ever leave the house without making them sit on the toilet first. And yet, the minute we go out to the mall, the grocery store, the restaurant — he's gotta go. Interestingly, it's the craft stores that really get his bowels moving.

The automatic doors fly open when we arrive at JoAnn, and I see the look. It's the same uncomfortable, pained expression I see on my husband's face on those rare occasions when I force him into a craft store, his own personal purgatory. Like father, like son.

"Uh, Mom," he'll say. "I have to go to the bathroom."

If we're lucky, we skip the room-clearing gas that's typically a precursor to the Public Restroom Visit.

We'll march to the back of the store and everything needs to come off, for some reason. Shorts, undies, shoes AND socks. All spread over the floor, which does wonders for my germophobia. I'll make him wait until the toilet seat is appropriately swaddled in TP, and then he can sit. Minutes go by...

"JJ, are you done?"

"Nope."

"Are you finished now?"

"Nope."

Of course by this time, he's scooted around enough that TP is all over the floor, leaving his innocent little bum exposed to countless cooties left behind by other asses. This makes me crawl out of my skin. Would it be possible to bathe him in antibacterial hand gel? Is there enough in my purse? In the world? Will he ever be clean again?

This past weekend, he had a soccer game. Afterward, he had to go. The park was crawling with kids, I was sidetracked by my other kid's bake sale, so I didn't have time to quiz him when he said he needed to go. Like there was any question.

Now I've been at correctional facilities — for work. And let me just say that I'm pretty sure that the in-cell toilets
were nicer. Undoubtedly cleaner.

There was my sweet little boy in that nasty, nasty slumpblock "restroom." Of course he was in there awhile. A line started. Then, a little hand pushed open the door from the inside. "Moooooom?" JJ called.

I walk over. Undies and soccer shorts are down around the ankles. At least he wasn't barefoot. A minor miracle.

"Are you done?" I ask.

"Yes."

Another miracle.

"I can't flush," he whines. "There's no flusher."

I look at the stainless steel toilet — no toilet paper on the seat, shudder — and the urinal and the standard prison-issue sink. There's a handle jutting straight out of the wall next to the toilet, which I point out to JJ.

"No, I don't need help," he insists. "I don't need help! That makes the man come."

Dear God, he thinks this bathroom is nice enough to have a restroom attendant. I still can't figure out when he would have been in a restroom nice enough to have one. Surely not at Michael's.

Friday Shoe Haiku

I never met a shoe I didn't like.....until now.



Alex. McQueen shoes.
Creepy. Ugly. Not so cute.
Profile like this dog's.

Fishnet Cardigan

This is a completely random thing to develop an obsession over, but this fishnet cardigan really speaks to me.

Now, I have never heard of a fishnet cardigan — this one on San Diego blogger Rumi Neely is apparently vintage. I did once own fishnet stockings, but they were only for a Halloween costume. Really. Snow White, if you must know. It was a twist on a fairy tale.

Anyhoo, I'm not sure if I really like this cardi for itself or if I'm just enamored with the look, which is effortless and airy, edgy but still sweet.

Or, do I just want that body? Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's that last one. I'm fairly sure this chick hasn't given birth to three children. Excuse me — I think the Halloween Oreos are now calling me.

Best. T-shirt. Ever

OK, OK, I've said before that the last thing I need is another T-shirt. But, look how cute this is!

The shirt by RVCA (don't let the 'v' fool ya — it's actually pronounced Ruca) has T-shirt styling, but is definitely blouselike in its easy fit and draping. Love it. Bought it. So, go ahead — stage an intervention, but I maintain this was a necessary purchase.

And, when I tell you it was regularly priced $34, but since I had a discount code I paid $28, I think you'll cut me some slack.

Hair Stuff I Can't Live Without

I love to spend money.

And — though my husband doesn't believe it, I'm sure — I love to save money, too. I never buy something until I've sufficiently scoured the World Wide Web to see if My Item Of Desire might be cheaper or be sold on a site that has free shipping (my favorite!!). That's how I ended up with a hair product imported directly from Oz. Yup, all the way from Australia, an online store called Adore Beauty. No joke — even with a $12 shipping charge, it was still cheaper than buying from a U.S. Web site by a good $7! Even better, Kusco-Murphy Beach Hair arrived in less than a week. Soooo much faster than anything from J. Crew has ever arrived.

When it comes to hair/beauty stuff, I'm a dabbler. I'm pretty much a sucker for anything I read about. I'll see it and want to try it. I think I read about Kusco-Murphy Beach Hair in Lucky magazine, and of all the things I've lusted after, this one is the one I keep buying — even though I have to track it down online. In another country.

Why do I love it? Well, first there's its amazing fragrance. A smidge coconuty with a subtle whiff of citrus — it reminds me exactly of a day on the beach. I use it on my wavy hair after blowdrying. Just a little rubbed between my fingers is all I need to get better defined curls and a smoother look. The gel is just the perfect finishing touch. I imagine it would work well to polish straight hair, too, and make it piece-y. Kusco-Murphy has a similar product called Bedroom Hair that has a similar effect, but it has a fairly strong cinnamon smell. I like it, too, but the Beach Hair scent is the ultimate.

Beach Hair is probably the one thing in my beauty routine that I can't live without. And, if you saw my cluttered medicine cabinet and two makeup kits, you'd realize just how amazing a statement that is.

Friday Shoe Haiku

Pretty, pretty wedges
You fill a void in my shoes*
MMMM...Purplicious!


*In that I had no purple shoes. But, I'll still always need more. Always.

Rationalization 101

My special gift is to be able to rationalize any purchase.

To wit: See this cute scarf? It's from Uncommon Goods, a fabulously quirky Web site that specializes in out-of-the-box gifts and items. It's made of T-shirts scraps and is incredibly soft (I love soft T-shirts! I love scarves!) — and it's made by disabled people.

I totally could make that purchase out of the joint checking account instead of my rapidly dwindling "special" fund. It's a charitable donation, right?

Fall's in the Air

Ahhhhhh.

The temperature is into double digits, so I celebrated by whipping out my Jessica Bennett boots (purchased in June. Unworn until now). Yee haw. Sure it still hit 90, but in the air-conditioned office, my tootsies were perfectly fine.

Hopefully this is a sign of even cooler temperatures to come. Let's hope so — I managed to accumulate six pairs of boots in the past year.